In every household in America there is “that” drawer or cupboard…the junk space. Maybe it isn’t junk so much as it is a disorganized conglomeration of miscellaneous utensils. Either way, you all know what I’m talking about, right? Mine looks a lot like this:
So here’s a test. Close your eyes and try to bring into your memory every single thing in that drawer or cupboard. Now write a list of those things. Are you absolutely sure you wrote down every single item from that space? I will bet you your weight in gold that you missed something. Betcha.
You forgot the second set of measuring cups, didn’t you? How about the half a dozen paring knives? Or that goofy letter opener gadget thing you got free at the Minnesota State Fair 15 years ago? It’s all in there and you didn’t even remember.
Granted, those are probably things you wouldn’t even need to replace. One set of measuring cups is sufficient, as is two or three paring knives. And nobody needs that letter opener; if so, grab a new one at next year’s State Fair.
Then there is all the seasonal stuff to remember. Christmas decorations, camping supplies, lawn chairs, flower pots...and the list goes on. It cannot all be remembered. And often cannot be found when wanted.
I am only so confident about this because I failed this test 12 years ago after our house burned down, and I had to compile a list of personal possessions for the insurance company. I am also confident that even with Captain’s self-diagnosed OCD, he wouldn’t have been able to pass this test.
October is Fire Safety/Prevention Month, and with the upcoming holiday season when statistics show that house fires are at their peak, please take my advice and every year, without fail, open every drawer, cabinet, closet, and storage space and take a picture of the contents. Some test takers would say this is cheating, but given the life-altering circumstances of when you might need this information…you get a pass on the cheating thing.
My point here is that we all, and this includes me and Captain, have way more stuff than we could possibly need for daily survival. Can I get an amen? I have a lot of stuff because I tend to make impulse purchases that don’t work out the way I imagined they would, and then I am stuck with an item I don’t want or need taking up space in my house. Maybe if I was better at the keep-the-receipt-and-return-it thing I wouldn’t have so much trouble, but I haven’t gotten the hang of that yet.
Captain, on the other hand, simply won’t get rid of anything. Socks with holes in them? Yeah, those can still be worn. Jeans with holes in them? They work for “around the house.” His favorite that I can literally SEE THROUGH but he won’t part with it? Like you can’t buy 5000 more T-shirts at any big box store in Rochester! Discarded iron railroad spikes from a rail line in Canada circa 1982? Oh yes, let’s talk about those.
He picked them up on a fishing trip with his dad and hauled them home from the wilds of Canada when he was in his mid teens. Six years later when we got married and moved into our own home, the railroad spikes came along and sat in a box on the floor of the bedroom closet. I mentioned multiple times that maybe he should just take them to the iron pile. Oh no, they must be kept.
Fast forward another 10 or 12 years, and our house burns down. The bedroom was spared from the flames but not from the smoke or water damage, but wouldn’t you know, the iron railroad spikes were in excellent condition in their little box and got salvaged from the debris to be moved to our temporary home while building a new house.
Three months later we were moving into the new house which had been designed specifically with a separate entrance to a mudroom where he could come in however filthy he might be and not mess up the main part of the house. After a couple of weeks of settling in and rearranging things, painting, etc., here comes Captain with some large iron contraption over his shoulder. What do you suppose? He’d found an old piece of angle iron, welded those six railroad spikes onto it, and screwed the whole kit and kaboodle to the mudroom wall for a jim dandy coat rack!
Color me chastised.
To be fair, I hang on to things that have very little monetary value but high sentimental value. My china hutch has half a dozen particularly special thank you notes we have gotten over the years. I have a brick from the barn at my mom’s childhood home. I have the first show halter my dad bought for us hanging on my office wall. I have the rattiest teddy bear in my bedroom. He used to be hot pink with coal black eyes, white muzzle, and a bright yellow ribbon around his neck, but now 40-plus years after I got him for Christmas from my daddy, he is gray with no ribbon, no eyes, no nose, and no mouth. I am thankful he was in the cedar chest when our house burned, and he survived. If anyone tried to take him I would fight tooth and nail to keep him. Why? Because he is a touchstone to someone who meant the world to me and is no longer here.
Maybe it’s okay to hang on to some things--because you just never know when you might need an 8-inch iron spike--but I really think we all could stand to trim down on the amount of stuff we accumulate and hang on to, don’t you?
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